


Burgundy Thread

by CCNSurvivor



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Companionship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27662018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCNSurvivor/pseuds/CCNSurvivor
Summary: Mary disappears into the darker corner of her mind and Lilith manages to navigate that maze of bleak thoughts to bring her back.Marithember: It's been too long.
Relationships: Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith & Original Mary Wardwell, Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith/Original Mary Wardwell
Kudos: 14
Collections: Marithember2020





	Burgundy Thread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jyou_no_Sonoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyou_no_Sonoko/gifts).



On this tempestuous autumn night, the little cottage is almost entirely swallowed up by darkness. Once or twice lights flicker in its windows like signs of life; orange flecks that smear and fade into murky impermanence when angry wind drives the next lashing of rain against glass.  
  
Mary looks up from her knitting to spare a glance over her shoulder, but there is little concrete to be seen outside. A shiver passes along her nape and instinctively her shoulder-blades contract as she hunches over further, eager to hide from this invisible touch, this harbinger of dark tidings.  
  
Her gaze locks onto the little hat that’s begun to form in her lap; she pulls lightly at either needle, prepares to weave the next careful pattern. But her stubborn focus wavers. The burgundy threads swim before her eyes like a sea of sameness, and no matter how much she strains, she cannot find the next tether, the best spot to hook into, to proceed.  
  
Emitting a small, frustrated sigh, she snatches her glasses off her nose and wipes at her face with the back of her hand. In her lap, the knitwear unravels further, fabric slipping to leave her right hand bare and cold. Above the crackling logs in the fireplace, silence roars.  
  
And all of a sudden her chest is much too tight to hold a single, full breath of air. What is left quivers pitifully and emerges at last in a faint gasp. Sheltered from wind and storm, moisture nonetheless catches in her lashes. And it burns, burns with the salt of memories, once hidden underneath the sturdy structure of bones. Now there is only flesh, bare and tender, exposed to the darkness that grasps and claws.  
  
Bereft of sight, she must wander aimlessly, turning never-ending corners into empty corridors. Something strikes a beat against the walls on either side of her, something alive and frightened. With fists that pound and pound, with nails that scrape. The force of its desperation shaking the very ground she is walking on. Driving her deeper into this maze.  
  
She cannot say where she is going, and the vague familiarity of her surroundings offers only a modicum of solace. Even when she makes it out into a new, empty space, walls begin to grow around her, throwing large, looming shadows that ensnare and overwhelm. And soon she has to stop, gasping for air, squeezing her eyes shut against any more detail, any further association her brain might pull from the catalogue of internal torment.  
  
When the air begins to shift, Mary is seated, her knees drawn up to her chest. She cannot recall lowering herself to the floor. She cannot recall very much of anything. But she can feel the change, the difference. A lightness, but not like sunshine. Not ruthlessly bright and encompassing. Rather, a twilight, as though darkness folded into darkness and set itself alight. Warming, from the inside. She can feel it move towards her. Through the shadows. Seamlessly.  
  
“Mary.”  
  
It touches her arm and gently coaxes her upright again.  
  
“Mary Wardwell, look at me.”  
  
Slowly, there is space for another breath. Between them.  
  
“Lilith.”  
  
The shadows shrink and finally collect only in the dark, thick waves that frame her beloved face. The logs in the hearth crackle. The wind tugs stubbornly at the window frames.  
  
“How did you find me?”  
  
The pale hand still lingers on her arm. Her thumb offers a fleeting caress.  
  
“You might recall that I have become rather skilled at navigating the landscape of hell.”  
  
“But-“  
  
The First Woman shakes her head, almost succeeding in hiding her eyes, and the tenderness therein.  
  
“Your mind is not so different.”  
  
Mary shifts until they are pressed knee to knee. Her voice trembles when she speaks.  
  
“Did I…did I call to you?”  
  
For a little while Lilith fails to answer, then, gently, her head lifts.  
  
_"It’s been too long. I have felt it, too,"_ she conveys wordlessly _. "It’s been too long without your companionship. It’s been too long since I have felt an illusion of peace."_

And soothed and seen, Mary nods and leans into her.


End file.
